The Legend Series Book One: Of Blood and Bones
by stydiaokaybye
Summary: A string of mysterious murders plague Beacon Hills but with the McCall Pack distracted by the dead pool with their names on, Emmy Walsh has nothing to hold on to but the flashes of memory that haunt her every waking moment. The pack goes into high alert when she turns out to be a high value target, and just when things can't get any worse, June Delaney's name appears on the list.
1. The Lost

"I'm with your dad on this one," she said. "If time traveling is a thing, I quit." June had seen and been okay with a lot of things since she moved to town, primarily that most of her new friends were some kind of supernatural creature, and as soon as one something had stopped trying to kill them, another started. Adjusting to a life in danger had, if anything, been tumultuous.

"Come on, Junebug," said Stiles. "Time traveling is not real, you know that." June resisted the urge to smash his face in for that ridiculous nickname; it made her feel like a child.

"Then please explain Fetus Derek," she demanded. "Where is tall, brooding, I-want-to-jump-his-bones Derek?" Scott, Stiles, and the Sheriff looked at her with expressions of disgust, confusion, and disbelief.

"What?" She questioned. "He's at least ten years older than me and I'm a minor – it's illegal. I'm not stupid." Stiles briefly explained about their trip to Mexico, how they found Derek like that, Scott admitted that they had no clue how to turn him back to his older self. He also mentioned a church, some chick named Braeden, and some other family of hunters but honestly, June had tuned out.

"Thanks for the invitation, by the way," she muttered. She was human but perfectly capable of handling herself – her mother had insisted she take hand-to-hand combat lessons since she was seven but she'd fallen in love with it and kept learning. She'd stopped when they left Texas but still worked out in the school gym to keep herself fit, it was a good way to deal with all the weird shit going on in this godforsaken town.

"No room in the jeep, sorry," Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Have you considered getting a new car? That thing is gonna be a pile of duct tape and blue paint before long." Stiles glowered at her but didn't seem to notice the Sheriff nodding in agreement.

"Never ever insult Roscoe in my presence." June glared at him.

"We didn't bring you for your own protection, I didn't want you to get hurt," Scott said apologetically. June didn't know if she should be flattered that they'd thought of her safety or insulted that they thought she was weak and defenseless, sure she hadn't told them about her extensive martial arts training but still.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much." She didn't mean to be dramatic but still stomped out of the sheriff's office. She needed to blow off some steam so she headed towards the high school, hoping the gym was free or at least the boxing bag. As June tied her shoes, a shadow appeared in her peripheral vision making a chill roll down her spine, despite not being supernatural herself, her instincts always let her know when something was off. June's heartbeat picked up but she kept her breathing even, trying not to spook the shadow that was now making some sort of noise though she could not tell what exactly. June raised her hands as the shadow moved closer but when June turned to face it, ready to throw the first blow in the solar plexus, she stopped when she realized the shadow was the new girl in her class. Emmeline Walsh stood in front of June with blood around her mouth and dripping from her hands, her white t-shirt was also covered in blood. There were tears in her dark eyes and the expression was that of girl who had no idea where she was or what was happening.

"Are you hurt?"

"Please," she whispered. "Please, help me." June took out her phone, dialed, and pressed it to her ear. Scott picked up on the first ring.

"We've got a problem."

Fifteen minutes later, Scott and Stiles charged through the door to the locker room as if someone had screamed bloody murder and they'd had run for their lives. June had managed to calm Emmeline down somewhat but she was still sobbing, and she refused to let June touch her to try to clean up the blood.

"What happened?" Scott asked, his eyes slipping from June who'd been pacing mindlessly and Emmeline who sat on the bench between the lockers trying to scratch the more or less dry blood off her fragile, trembling hands.

"What are you wearing?" Stiles wondered out of breath with furrowed brows. June narrowed her eyes at him but ignored his comment, turning her attention back to the real problem. Scott had squatted down in front of Emmeline; his eyes flashed red as if he tried to see something that wouldn't be noticeable to the naked eye. He shook his head.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Can you tell me your name?" Her dark eyes darted up and met Scott's. For a brief minute the sobbing subsided and she seemed almost entranced, her eyes slipped to Stiles and darkened for a moment but by the blink of the eye the darkness was gone.

"Emmy," she whispered. "I-I don't know how I got here." Her voice trembled, and her thick Scottish accent made it hard to understand what she was saying. June paced again, frustrated that her workout had been interrupted before it had even begun and she still felt abandoned by her friends who went to Mexico and didn't even bother to tell her. She knew it were her insecurities speaking but even knowing that didn't make the feelings disappear.

Emmy calmed down as Scott spoke quietly to her but as much as June wanted to stay to find out what he learned, and if she really was supernatural, June knew she needed to calm herself down first or she wouldn't be of any help. She might even explode. So when the alpha and sidekick were sufficiently distracted, she slipped out of the locker room and into the school gym. June shivered from the cold when she entered but finding the room vacant made her muscles relax, she started wrapping her hands as she approached the boxing bag that hung from the ceiling towards the back of the room. She breathed in the foreign though familiar smell, sweat mixed with the scent of leather and metal from the equipment scattered around the floor in no apparent system or pattern. June stepped onto the mat, locked the final strips of the wraps around her hands in place, and placed herself in the standard position, then started punching the bag. Before she knew it, she had worked up a good sweat altering between kicks and punches. When she stopped to take a sip of water and wipe her forehead with a towel, it sounded like someone was choking behind her. She spun around on her heel to find Stiles standing by the door with an expression that was unreadable – June couldn't tell if he was awestruck, impressed, or confused – maybe all at once.

"What?" It was impossible to hide the annoyance she felt. Though she'd been relieved that she was not the only human in pack, Stiles and June had been at odds with each other from day one. Since they were both sarcastic and entirely snarky in their nature, they often butted heads and disagreed on everything, everything from how the universe was created to which flavor of ice cream was the better one. June knew it was driving everyone mad that they couldn't even be in the same room as each other without arguing in some way or another. Some would argue sexual tension but honestly, they were just similar in personality and worldview – unlike Stiles and Lydia, now their bickering was definitely sexual tension whether or not they wanted to admit it.

"What are you doing?" Stiles wondered, his dark brows drawn together in a frown.

"Making an ice sculpture," she snapped. "What does it look like I'm doing?" June picked up her water bottle and towel from the floor, and headed towards the locker room entrance where Stiles was standing still completely dumbfounded over what he'd just witnessed. June brushed passed him, opening the door to the locker room. Some frustration lingered but that was mostly because Stiles had interrupted her and then asked stupid questions – the boy was smart and last she checked, his eyes functioned perfectly well, so his dumb question required an equally dumb response. In the locker room, Scott was talking to Emmy who had gotten most of the blood scrubbed off her hands and face, her t-shirt was still soaked though so June handed her the extra sweater she kept in her locker in case of emergencies. Emmy muttered a thank you that was barely audible as she took her t-shirt off and put on the jumper, which was about a size too big on June but fitted Emmy perfectly. Stiles came back into the locker room with his phone in his hand, Scott quirked up an eyebrow at him.

"That was my dad," he stated. "They're ready to let Derek go."

"Okay, you drop Emmy off at her house, then take Derek to my house and don't let him out of your sight." Scott voice was laced with a warning, they didn't want to lose Derek since they had no idea what Kate wanted with him or why she'd aged him backwards – they didn't even know if she had followed them back to Beacon Hills.

"I will but what are you gonna do?" Scott sighed.

"I am going to talk to who we should have gone to before." Stiles and June exchanged glances.

"I hate that guy," they said in unison. Trust them to agree on one thing, and it was that Peter was not to be trusted, believed, or even listened to. June had only met Peter a handful of times and it was about a handful too many.

"What about me?" Scott shifted his weight from one foot to the other; June didn't need super-hearing to understand what that meant. "You want me to go home, don't you?"

"It's not safe, June," he replied nervously.

"You know what?" She said. "Fuck you. Stiles is human and he gets to run straight into danger like it's nothing but you expect me to sit on my ass at home while all of you are out there fighting or whatever it is Stiles does with that baseball bat he carries around everywhere." Stiles opened his mouth to object but a stern look from June silenced him before he had even gotten the chance to speak. Scott moved a couple of steps closer.

"The bat might not be ideal but at least he can protect himself," Scott explained.

"I'm not weak, Scott," she snapped. " _I'm_ a weapon. I'm going with Stiles to keep an eye on Derek while you go talk to the devil's spawn. I might not have wolf-powers but don't you dare underestimate me – you don't know what I'm capable of." June zipped up the grey hoodie she'd slipped on. She went to Emmy and sat down next to her on the bench, she was still trembling but the tears were gone – she flinched when June put her hand on her back.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get you home." She nodded and stood on shaky legs, she leaned into June who quirked her brows up at Stiles in a question, he apparently got the hint and opened the door for them. In the parking lot she helped Emmy into the jeep, and climbed into the front seat next to Stiles. Then they parted ways with Scott who sped off towards the loft to speak to Peter while the jeep went in the opposite direction towards Emmy's house.

* * *

"You _lost_ him?" June shouted. "How do you lose a person?" Stiles had come back downstairs after going to check on Derek only to inform her that he was gone, Kate had come for him.

"How did you not notice Kate come in?" Stiles argued.

"Why didn't _you_ notice? She must've snuck in while we were both down here." June rubbed circles on her temples to get the beginning headache to lessen. "You're impossible, Stilinski."

"Me? You're the one who wanted to play hero, preaching about being a weapon or whatever."

"Okay, let's stop arguing for one second and think. Where would Kate take him? What does she need him for?" Stiles' phone made a sound, he took it out and read the text from Scott out loud.

" _The Hale Vault, on the High School grounds. Pick Lydia up on the way._ "

"Vault?" June thought out loud. "Since when is there a vault?"

* * *

A/N: The first chapter of my new story, Of Blood and Bones. If you have time and want to, please leave a review and tell me what you think of it. For more information on my OC's, June and Emmy, I have a tumblr (stydiaokaybye) where you can learn more about them or ask me questions. Thanks for reading!


	2. The Vault

"You had 117 million dollars in bearer bonds just lying around unprotected? You're officially the stupidest person I know, and I have a brother who's not exactly the sharpest tool in the toolshed." A low growl came from deep within Peter's body; he looked ready to kill her. June's muscles tensed, preparing them for the blow, should it come. She silently thanked her body for reacting before her mind did.

"The bonds were safe," said Peter. "Only the claws belonging to a Hale can open the vault." June resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the sheer stupidity – not that the only access to the vault was with a set of Hale claws wasn't brilliant, almost genius, but not taking the extra precaution of placing a lock on the safe that kept their fortune intact? How stupid could they really be? June didn't want Peter to actually attack her so she kept her mouth shut tightly but it was hard task as Peter kept rambling about the bonds, and Berserkers who apparently were from Norse mythology ("you've got to be kidding me," June commented), about Kate, and why she needed Derek to be a teenager again. He was furious, and stormed passed them up the stairs – Lydia suggested that they left too so June nudged Stiles in the ribs, and they ascended the stairs.

"Since it's Peter," June began. "We not going to believe any of the bullshit he just told us, right? I believe him about the bearer bonds, and with everything you've told me about Kate, I really do believe that she turned Derek back just so she could use him but we don't believe him about the Berserkers. Do we?" Stiles and Lydia exchanged a glance that did not make June feel comfortable.

"Malia saw something in Mexico that matches the description," said Stiles.

"We can't be sure," Lydia corrected. "It was dark out and the rest of us only heard a sound. It could have been something else." Stiles furrowed his brows at her.

"Are you in denial?"

"No," she argued. "It's not that I don't trust Malia's instincts but it really could have been anything." June was glad that Lydia was taking this argument instead of her, she was afraid she might snap if anyone said another word to her. She desperately needed to get some sleep.

After they'd spoken to everyone else who had been attacked by Berserkers, which made June rub her temples in frustration, they decided to part ways and head home for the night. As June, Lydia, and Stiles headed for his jeep, June checked her watch. It was way past midnight, and she realized that she once again would have to sneak in. Her limps felt heavy, and her entire body drained of energy as she climbed into the backseat of the jeep – the adrenalin that had been surging through her body most of the day was wearing off, and she could barely keep her eyes open on the silent ride to her house. She thanked Stiles for the ride, and made her way to the front door where the automatic light turned on as soon as she stepped onto the porch. She fumbled with her keys but finally managed to open the door and get inside. She kicked her shoes off in the hallway, and dumped her bag on the floor after which she made her way to the kitchen to get a snack and some water before heading to bed. She turned on the light, and jumped at the sight of her brother sitting on the counter.

"Jesus Marco," she half whispered, half yelled. "You scared me." He ignored her comment.

"You're lucky I covered for you," he hissed. "I told mom and dad that you went to a movie with your friends and the only viewing available was the late one. They bought it but you and I both know it's not true. Where were you?" June drained her glass of water, and refilled it.

"Doesn't matter," she replied dismissively. "You have your first day tomorrow, why aren't you asleep?" Since the Delaneys moved to Beacon Hills, Marco had attended Devenford Prep because they had a better baseball team than the local high school but making friends hadn't been easy and in the end he asked if he could transfer to his sister's school. June had made new friends faster than Marco thought she would, and it surprised him because usually June tried to keep her distance from people, and stay out of everyone's business – she had always focused more on her training than building friendships.

"I'm worried," he said, concern laced in his voiced. "We're all worried, June. You stay out late, you're distracted, and your grades are dropping."

"Thanks mom," she snapped. "I'm fine, Marco." June grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and headed upstairs while she ate it. She flopped down on her bed without changing out of her gym clothes, and fell straight asleep.

* * *

"Shit," June mumbled when she woke up the next morning, and peeked at the clock on her bedside table. She peeled herself off her bed, and shuffled her way to the bathroom where she had to settle for washing herself because there was no way she had time for a shower with only twenty minutes until she had to leave. She splashed cold water in her face, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her dark hair was still in a ponytail but it was now crooked and several strands had fallen out and were waving in every direction possible, she had dark circles under her eyes from months without a normal sleeping schedule, and last night's rendezvous didn't exactly help the problem. She adjusted her ponytail, put a coat of concealer under her eyes, added mascara, and left the bathroom to go change into some school appropriate clothes. She hadn't managed to do her homework for the day but she could usually get through the classes quite easily especially history with Kira's dad since he knew about the pack's dealings (June wasn't sure he knew about Mexico though). She raced down the stairs, and into the kitchen where she snatched half a piece of toast out of Marco's hand, and stuffed it into her mouth.

"Hey," he grunted. "I was eating that!"

"Not fast enough," June teased, and took a water bottle from the fridge. "You ready to go? We have to pick Lydia up on the way." Marco nodded, and grabbed his backpack from the chair next to him. He jogged after June to her car, and slipped into the front seat. June glared at him.

"No," she said firmly. "Freshmen go in the back."

"What?"

"That seat is reserved for Lydia, now scoot. We're late." Marco scoffed but didn't argue as he unbuckled his seatbelt, and slipped into the backseat of his sister's car. The drive to Lydia's house was less than ten minutes and even though June drove above the speed limit, she was still late. She apologized when Lydia slid into the front seat. Marco did a not so discreet fake cough from the backseat that made Lydia jump just a little; she twisted in the seat and looked behind her where Marco did a stupid wave.

"There's a boy in your car," Lydia stated. June kicked the engine awake and it hummed as she backed out of the driveway and set off for school. The quietness of the car was almost scary because she'd gotten used the persistent noise of Stiles' jeep.

"That's Marco," June explained. "Brother dearest." Lydia nodded but didn't say anything else. June felt that Lydia had wanted to talk about something but not in the presence of her brother who remained completely ignorant to the fact that there was anything supernatural going on in Beacon Hills, and that was exactly the way June wanted it. They pulled into the school parking lot, and climbed out of the car. June wished her brother good luck, and pointed him in the direction of the administrations office where he would be talking to an administrator to get his schedule and locker number among other things. The girls made their way inside the building at which point June asked Lydia what was bothering her.

"Stiles mentioned something after we dropped you off last night." June quirked up an eyebrow. "He said he saw you box in the gym so I looked you up online. Why didn't you mention that you were Kickboxing State Champion three years in a row, and placed second in the Nationals?" June shrugged as they stopped at her locker.

"I stopped training when we moved," June explained. "It didn't seem relevant."

"The article also said you trained in other forms of martial arts including Krav Maga and military styled self defense." June nodded.

"Are you just reviewing my training or is there a question in there somewhere?" Lydia hesitated. Her eyes shifted from June to the students who were scattered across the school hallway, each lost in their own personal conversations. The simplicity of it seemed so distant that June could hardly believe it had once been a part of her normal day – that her life hadn't always been about the next threat to the lives of her friends. Lydia's eyes shifted back to June.

"I want you to train me."

"What?" June wasn't easily shocked but Lydia's request threw her off guard.

"I can't defend myself, June, or others. I just have voices in my head, and I don't know how to be helpful if I don't know how my powers work." June sighed but didn't answer. She walked with Lydia to their math class where they took their seats as the rest of the student piled into the classroom. June spotted Malia in the doorway but she backed out of the room instead of entering, only to be dragged back by Stiles.

"I'll do it," June said under her breath. Lydia twisted in her seat as Stiles and Malia sat down in the chairs next to them. "Today during tryouts. Meet me in the gym." Lydia nodded and turned back around, a hint of a smile played around her lips.

"… and math is essential."

"To what?" Malia asked, clearly curious.

"How to tip at restaurants," Stiles replied. Lydia and June both looked at Stiles like the idiot June knew him to be.

"And less important things like medicine, economics, engineering," Lydia explained, and sent Stiles a patronizing smile. June chuckled.

"Tipping," Stiles insisted. Their teacher asked for volunteers to come to the board and solve the equations. June let out a relieved breath when she wasn't called on but Malia was – June couldn't help but feel sympathetic. June could hear Stiles fidget from the table next to her as if he was wanted to say something to her but didn't quite know how. What was with her friends today? Were they that afraid of her temper, that they found it hard to ask her simple questions? She turned her head, and stared at Stiles with a quirked eyebrow.

"So," he began. "You box."

"I used to compete," June admitted, not sure why she was telling him. "Kickboxing mostly. I also did mixed martial arts, self-defense, and Krav Maga." Stiles pulled out his phone after it had made a sound. As he read what was on his screen, his eyes grew worried and deep lines dug into his forehead.

"What is it?" Stiles pried his eyes away from his phone, and locked eyes with her.

"There's been a triple homicide," he explained. "A family was murdered with an axe." June's breath caught in her throat as she processed. Stiles mumbled as he texted his dad to get more information on the circumstances of the murders, and if it was something that the pack should get involved with. June hoped that this time, it would be enough for the police to handle it but something told her that wasn't the case and later, when it turned out that the family that had been killed were all a supernatural being called a wendigo, June knew that the lives of her friends were once again in jeopardy and to make matters worse than they already were – Scott bit a freshmen to save his life.

* * *

 **A/N: I present to you, the second chapter of 'Of Blood and Bones'. I decided to let June teach Lydia to fight instead of Parrish because it makes more sense. Reviews are much appreciated and you write to me on my tumblr (stydiaokaybye) to talk about this fic or any other one. Thanks so much!**


	3. The List

Emmy stared at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked the same as every other morning – skinny as a twig with bright orange hair but she felt different somehow. Like something had switched on inside her, an unknown hunger that she didn't know how to turn off. She couldn't remember most nights from the past couple of weeks; it was like someone had thrown a veil over her memories so she could only remember glimpses. One night in particular stood out a bit more than the others though and she could remember moments like being in the woods, blood on her hands and no idea how it got there, the school, and being taken home in a noisy car.

"Are you alright?" Emmy's eyes slipped from her own reflection to her father's. He was standing in the doorway to her room, leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. His thick-rimmed reading glasses hung in a chain around his neck over the big, comfortable jumper that Emmy's grandmother knitted for him, the one with the big G for Grant on his stomach, the one he only wore when he worked from home because he wasn't going to let his pupils mock him for it. It made her smile because he wore it when he read the Harry Potter books to his daughter growing up – the jumper was exactly like the ones Molly Weasley knitted for her family. Emmy nodded.

"I know it's been difficult for you," he said as she turned to face him. "But you can talk to me about anything, darling." Her father had aged over the past couple of years but since they left Scotland, it was easier to see. His hair used to be as bright orange as his daughter's but now it was mostly grey with only hints of the redhead he'd once been. The wrinkles around his eyes that had only appeared when he smiled were now permanent, and he needed the glasses more often than he cared to admit. He finally looked like the professor, Emmy knew him to be.

"Thanks, Dad," she said and kissed his cheek. "Do you have time to drive me to school or are the essays in a hurry to be marked?" He chuckled, nodded, and put his arm around his daughter. Together they walked to the car, and Grant Walsh took his time despite six weeks practice - he still wasn't comfortable driving on the opposite side of the road, and his daughter made sure not to mention his knuckles turning white as he grasped the steering wheel harder than necessary.

"Have you made any friends?" The question shouldn't have come as a surprise since she hadn't mentioned anyone at all over dinner but her father's directness caught her off guard. She tossed a sideways glance at him.

"I'm not good at making friends," Emmy mumbled. She dug her fingernail into her palm hard enough to leave an imprint – it was a bad habit that she'd tried to shed for years but to no avail.

"What do you mean you're bad at making friends? You had plenty in Scotland." Her father looked from one side to the other to check he was good to go without rambling into another driver coming from either left or right – Emmy had to tell him that he'd turned the blinker on to show right instead of left. At last, her dad swung out onto the road in a swift motion.

"I've been busy catching up on years worth of schoolwork. They don't have the same curriculum or structure that we do in Scotland – you should know that being a professor." The truth of it was that she had spent her last month in Scotland reading up on the curriculum for Beacon Hills High so that she would be more or less caught up once she started her new life in America, and so far she seemed to be doing fine except in maths but that had always been an issue.

At last her father turned the car into the school parking lot but several horns sounded as he lost his head and accidentally drove on the side of the road he was used to. He mumbled apologies that no other driver could hear as he curved his shoulders, and drove the car towards the five-minute parking spots for parents who were dropping or picking up their children. When Grant Walsh finally turned off the car, Emmy sucked in a ragged breath of relief that they did not die this time either – her father's driving had never made her feel particularly safe but it had come to an entirely new level of terrifying since they had moved halfway across the planet. Her dad's grip on the steering wheel loosened until he let go entirely, and placed them in his lap where Emmy noticed them tremor slightly but she did not have it in her to point it out to him.

"I'm proud of you, _leannain_ ," he said after a few seconds of silence. "Besides your initial apprehension, you've proven to be more mature than I ever thought you would be." The corners of Emmy's mouth turned upward as she reached out and put her slim hand on top of her father's.

"Well, someone had to be the adult in a house filled with eccentric professors," she joked, and couldn't help but laugh at Grant Walsh's attempt to send her an angry glare but there was a hint of a smile around his eyes, and soon he was laughing with her. Emmy watched students pile into the building to get to their respective classes, she didn't mean to but she let out the heavy sigh that had been stuck in her throat since last night.

"Forget school today," her father said making her attention snap back to him. "Try to make some friends – nothing would make me happier than for you not to be lonely." Emmy nodded.

"There's a lacrosse game tonight," she remembered. "I'll go." Her father nodded, obviously pleased with his daughter's decision. She couldn't bear the thought of telling him that she had turned down a party invitation a few days earlier – she figured going to the game would make up for it even though he didn't know.

" _Tha gaol agam ort_ ," he said and put his arms around his daughter.

"I love you too," Emmy muttered, and hugged him back. She stepped out of the car and watched her father drive away. As the car disappeared out of the school parking lot, she remembered the promise she had just made to him – that she would forget school and try to make a friend which, considering her strange accent and bright orange hair that people undoubtedly noticed, should be easier said than done. The opposite was true. If the move to America had taught her anything, it was that her communication skills with people she hadn't known all her life were severely compromised and to be honest, practically non-existent. Nonetheless, she turned around on her heel, determined to make her father proud and make a friend. Just one, and have a conversation with that person so she could mention their name over supper tonight.

Less than a minute after she'd opened her locker someone said her name on the other side of the open door but they said Emmy instead of Emmeline. Emmy peeked her head around her locker door and saw a face that looked somewhat familiar though she couldn't pinpoint it. The girl had long dark hair, dark eyes, arms lined with muscles, and circles under her eyes that had barely been covered by concealer despite the fact that the girl had definitely tried.

"Can I help you?" The girl crossed her arms over her chest.

"I figured you wouldn't remember considering you haven't talked to me since you ambushed me in the locker room a couple of weeks ago. To be fair, you were pretty out of it so I don't blame you, but I lent you a hoodie and I would like it back." Emmy blinked her eyes rapidly a couple of times as if the girl would be abducted by a leprechaun while they were closed for a fraction of a second – then she cursed herself for thinking of a myth that was clearly Irish not Scottish. But she did remember the strange grey hoodie she'd woken up in a couple of weeks ago, it now hung over her desk chair as a reminder that someone must've been kind to her while she was blacked out.

"Wait," Emmy began, brows laced together. "I ambushed you?" The girl nodded.

"You didn't attack me," she clarified. "But consider yourself lucky I didn't attack you which I could and would have done if you hadn't asked me to help you." According to her father, Emmy was a human lie detector because she was somehow always able to tell if people were being truthful or not, and despite how crazy it all sounded, the girl in front of her was telling the truth. There wasn't even a hint of a lie and Emmy couldn't tell if that fascinated her or scared her half to death. Either way, she seemed to have answers about her foggy memories, and Emmy needed to know more and potentially find out what caused her blackouts.

"What did I need your help with?" The somewhat cocky half-smile that had been glued to the girl's face since she started talking to her faded fast. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she glanced over her shoulder before turning her head back to Emmy. Her arms were still crossed across her chest, and she was tapping a finger on her elbow.

"You really don't remember, do you?" Emmy shook her head.

"Not really," she muttered. She debated whether or not she should tell the girl about her persistent blackouts, about the flashes she did remember, and how much the uncertainty of her whereabouts and doings terrified her. Emmy had no idea what was happening to her.

"You were covered in blood, Emmy," said the girl. Emmy's breath caught in her throat, and her breathing became more ragged. "Around your mouth, your hands, your t-shirt, and I think your hair, too. We have no idea what happened to you but there were no cuts or bruises on you so the blood must've belonged to someone else." Emmy's hand was in front of her mouth in shock to keep her from screaming. Tears were threatening to burst over the edges of her eyes, and she could barely breathe. She was breaking down in the middle of the school hallway, and there was nothing she would rather do than get out of there, to get out of everybody's sight so no one would judge her. The girl seemed to read her mind because she led Emmy down the hallway, and into the boys' locker room where two familiar faces and an unfamiliar one looked at her. There were two boys, both with dark hair and eyes, and a girl with beautiful red hair. Not like Emmy's, which was supposedly red but had always looked more orange than anything else.

"You talked to her for five minutes and the poor girl's already in tears? Well done, June." The boy with the moles said. June, the girl who had talked to Emmy, glared at him.

"Shut it, Stilinski," she hissed. It occurred to Emmy that June's name didn't fit her. The name made her think of gentle summer winds, purple heather, open hills, and the sun beating down on the moors making them seem endless but June's voice was harsh, and cold like the desperate and rainy winters she knew from Scotland.

"Do you know anything about this?" Asked the boy whom June has referred to as Stilinski and handed Emmy a piece of paper with a list of names with numbers next to them on it. At the bottom of the list, she read _Emmeline Walsh_ _22_ and gasped – she had no idea what it meant but from the looks on everybody's faces, it wasn't good.

"I don't know anything," Emmy said after a couple of seconds, and handed the list back. "What do the numbers mean?" The four people in front of her all hesitated, undoubtedly deciding whether or not she could handle the truth, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she wasn't sure she could. The other boy, the one with the crooked jawline spoke somewhat slowly, and with a slight hint of caution in his voice as if trying not to scare her.

"It's a dead pool," he said. "A list of supernatural creatures and how much money someone will be paid to take that person out." Emmy's head was spinning from too many words and concepts that she couldn't possibly begin to comprehend. Her father was a history professor, who had chosen to specialize in the history of the supernatural but never once had he hinted that it might be real, and now these vaguely familiar strangers were telling her that the supernatural was real. There was no question any more: Emmy was losing her mind.

"This is only a third of the list," said the redhead, speaking for the first time. "But so far, you're the second most valuable target on the list next to Scott. I'm number three," She finished. Emmy's heart raced, black spots appeared before her eyes, and when asked if she was okay, their voices seemed a million miles away as her body rapidly weakened under her, and her breathing grew fast and ragged.

"Get her on the floor," someone yelled but the voice barely reached her. It seemed like someone had put a fist around her heart and was slowly killing her. It was as if someone had tied her lungs into knots, making it impossible to breathe as the pieces slowly started to fit together in her mind. The blood on her hands, the inexplicable blackouts, her name on a list of supernaturals, assassins coming to get her so they could earn 22 million dollars, so much blood, chasing someone through the woods. The other kids were talking but Emmy could only feel June's hand in hers so she tried to focus on that, tried to use the girl with the unfitting name's touch to jolt back into real time and out of the panic attack that was currently crippling every fiber of her being. When she finally came back to it, it felt like hours had passed but it had only been a couple of minutes. Lydia Martin, whose name Emmy knew because she'd mentioned being the third most valuable person on the list, handed her a plastic cup with water for her drink. Emmy concentrated on her breathing, and took a couple of long sips from the water. She closed her eyes, and opened them again to look up at Scott who was definitely the leader of the group, she breathed in as much air as she could to prepare herself for the words that would come out of her mouth next.

"I think I killed someone."

* * *

 **A/N: This might be one of my favorite chapters I've ever written to any story so I would very much appreciate reviews and you guys letting me know what you think of the story and my OCs. I tried to write from Emmy's POV and I quite liked it - something I will definitely explore in the future. Remember you can follow me and talk to me on tumblr (stydiaokaybye) about this story or the people in it. Thanks so much, darlings.**


	4. The Game

"This just keeps getting better and better," June grumbled and rubbed her eyes. "If there's been supernatural killings, why haven't we heard about it? I thought that was our thing." Everyone in the locker room grew silent, and Emmy studied each of the faces surrounding her. Scott's most prominent feature were his dark but kind eyes, it was a pair of eyes that would make anyone feel safe, and they were trustworthy but underneath the kindness there was something that seemed like a warning – that if he was pushed hard enough, he could turn vicious but never intentionally. Scott's strong jawline was slightly crooked on one side, it made him look a bit like a lost puppy, though a very adorable one when he smiled. The way Lydia carried herself ebbed intelligence, and Emmy didn't doubt a good set of brains hid behind the lush red hair, and beautiful green eyes. Trying to outsmart Lydia would be nearly impossible, Emmy reckoned, and she would rather not try but she was the person, Emmy would go to if she ever needed help with a riddle, maths homework, or just general life advice – she seemed to have been through hell but somehow still managed to come out on top. The outline of muscles on June's arms told Emmy that she worked out, probably boxing or something along those lines. Everything about June seemed to say that she did not care what people thought of her and that she was not to be messed with because she would fight back, and her opponent would regret it. Where Lydia's appearance ebbed elegance and intelligence, June ebbed intelligence and arrogance but Emmy didn't doubt that she was loyal to her friends and fiercely protective of those she held close. Stiles was harder to read. He was closed off, and undoubtedly used sarcasm to mask his fear and other feelings that he'd rather not have. His eyes had a hint of darkness to them that Emmy found off-putting – it made whatever that lived inside her wake up, and it yearned to tear him apart.

"Nothing pointed towards the supernatural," Stiles said interrupting Emmy's chain of thought. "There's been five murders over the last month but they didn't have any supernatural elements so my dad and I agreed that it was probably animal attacks. The victims have nothing in common." Emmy's head started spinning again but not like the panic attack she'd had less than five minutes ago, this was a different kind of spinning. She put her head between her legs to help her breathing, and to keep her from imminent projectile vomiting. A phone pinged, and Emmy could practically feel Scott tense up despite the fact that he was standing at least a foot away from her.

"Devenford arrived," he said with a slight uneasiness to his voice. "Liam is talking to them." Emmy lifted her head and caught the look that Scott and Stiles shared – whoever Liam was, the fact that he was talking to the prep school students wasn't a good thing and before Emmy knew it, Stiles and Scott ran out of locker room with June tagging Emmy along. Lydia was left behind. They stopped outside near the school parking lot where Devenford Prep students were filing out of a big bus that clearly screamed better funding than their public school.

"This is not good," June mumbled only loud enough for Emmy to hear. A boy with sandy brown hair was talking to Devenford boy who was at least a foot taller than him and impossibly attractive, almost as if someone had crafted him on a computer and made him into a real boy in complete Pinocchio style – Emmy wondered if his nose would grow if he told a lie. She couldn't hear their conversation but from the tension in the shorter boy's shoulders, his clenched fists, and the way Pinocchio's grin was laced with bitter taunt, let Emmy know that the situation could very quickly go awry. When she noticed the blood drip from the boy she assumed was Liam's fists, Scott and Stiles stumbled through the crowd that had gathered to get him out of there Stiles talked to the prep students while Scott tried to calm Liam down. June slapped her palm on her forehead in what Emmy could only interpret as exasperation.

"What's going on?" Emmy asked carefully. Before June could answer, Stiles, Scott, and Liam swept passed them in a swift motion towards the boys' locker room. The crowd dispersed and Emmy was left with June in the quad next to the school parking lot, June linked their arms together and headed inside for their first classes.

"Wolf boy has anger issues," June said as they approached her locker. Emmy must've looked perplexed because June elaborated. "Liam has anger issues, and when he was bitten and then turned into a werewolf, that anger was enhanced. His first full moon was a fucking nightmare."

"So it's all true?" June furrowed her brows at her.

"What?"

"The legends, and myths, and ancient folklore. It's all true?" June shrugged.

"Werewolves, kitsunes, banshees, werecoyotes, wendigoes, kanimas, and apparently also Berserkers whatever that is. I don't know about vampires though, haven't met one yet but in this town? Anything's possible." Emmy nodded. She knew that she was taking the news of the existence of supernatural creatures a bit too calmly, but nothing about June's words set off her lie detector alarms so Emmy believed her.

"Do you have a copy of the dead pool?" June reached into the pocket of her jeans, and handed Emmy a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it and saw that June had crossed out some of the names on the list – Emmy got the chilling sensation that those names were people who had already been killed. June sighed.

"Look," she began. "We'll find who's responsible but until then, try not to worry about it too much. Do normal things." It took everything in Emmy's power not to yell at her but she kept her breathing even, and forced her urge to scream to stay at bay.

"I'm going to the lacrosse game tonight," she stated. June's hand went still on the locker door, and the color left her face, leaving her pale. A short couple of second later, she breathed out and slammed her locker shut.

"I was supposed to help Lydia figure out the next cipher key but I'm sure Malia can do that," she said clearly a bit on edge. "I'll go with you." Emmy smiled. If her father could see his daughter now, he would be proud of the effort she was making to be friendly, and that didn't turn down an invitation to spend time with people her own age.

There were more people at the lacrosse game than Emmy had expected considering it was only a scrimmage. June had gotten there a bit early and managed to find them fairly decent seats, and seemed happy enough when she spotted Emmy at the bottom of the bleachers, and waved for her to come on up. She remembered the look on her father's face when she'd told him that she wasn't going by herself, and that she knew a few people on the team. His expression had been a mixture of genuine happiness and overwhelming relief – he'd wanted to go but since he didn't know the rules, he'd decided against and settled with dropping his daughter off. Emmy had tried to explain that it was similar to hockey but the sticks had nets, to which Grant Walsh had huffed _Americans_ , accompanied with an eye roll in expert teenage style.

"Hey," June greeted as Emmy sat down next to her. "How many layers are you wearing?" Emmy looked down herself, and only then realized that she was sweating in her three jumpers, thick gloves, and knitted hat.

"I'm from Scotland," she explained. "It gets cold." June laughed but encouraged her to at least take off her coat, but just as she was about to, she realized that her outermost jumper was the one her grandmother had knitted with the enormous E on the front. She settled for unzipping her coat halfway, and then asked June to run through the players for her. Scott was captain, Stiles was a pathetic excuse for a player and was only on the field by association, Kira was new to the team and the only girl but her reflexes were sharp, Garrett was cocky but good.

"And that's Liam, right?" Emmy asked pointing to the boy with the sandy brown hair who was talking another boy. June nodded.

"He's a good kid but it's hard not to wonder if Scott made a mistake biting him," she said. Emmy was acutely aware that they probably should not be discussing the supernatural within hearing distance of anyone but June didn't seem to care.

"His anger makes him dangerous," Emmy noted. June nodded again. Rage and superpowers was never a good combination, and unless Liam could find something to keep him balanced, his adjustment period would be long and hard. Emmy scanned the players on the field in front of he. Devenford Prep in green and Beacon Hills High in red, were either chatting to each other or warming up but something was off. Emmy got the distinct feeling that something was going to happen and whatever it was, it wouldn't be good. A coldness froze her chest, and the blood in her veins sent chills through her entire body – flashes of someone being stabbed, someone struggling to breathe, barely alive. Before she could make sense of the flashes, she was running down the steps of the bleachers towards Liam Dunbar – they'd never spoken but in that moment, she didn't care. He turned around just in time to see her charging at him.

"Don't do it," she breathed, grasping his lacrosse jersey. "There's a murderer on that field and people could die. _You_ could die." For a few painful seconds, he didn't say anything. His sharp blue eyes had widened, his expression laced with pure shock and confusion but despite it, Emmy could tell that his breathing had slowed. He hesitated a moment as he gained his composure back.

"I have to play," he said. He hesitated again but then raised his hand and stroked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. His touch set her whole body on fire making it impossible to breathe. Her heartbeat was more miles per hour than she'd ever experienced before. His hand fell back to his side, and Emmy finally let go of his jersey. For two people who had only met mere seconds ago, this interaction was too intimate but once the dread had settled in her lungs, she'd had no choice but to warn him. It would have made more sense to talk to Scott but the pull she felt to Liam was something else - impossible to resist. Inexplicable.

"Just…" she halted, unsure if she should say what was on her mind. "I can't tell you how I know but there's a killer on one of the teams, so just look out for yourself." She squeezed Liam's arm, and turned around to head to the packed bleachers before he could answer. As she found her way back to June, her heartbeat set back into a normal rhythm. She sat down with a loud thump, and a sigh to match it.

"You okay?" June asked. Emmy nodded.

"Yeah," she mumbled, and then turned to June after a minute or so. "I don't know. Someone's going to get hurt, I can feel it." June furrowed her brows at Emmy; concern laced in her deep brown eyes but she didn't say anything. June took out her phone, and opened up a new message to text Scott. Emmy didn't mean to read it but she couldn't help herself. June typed out words that would pain Emmy in the next weeks to come.

" _Could Emmy be a banshee_ ," it'd said. The game began before Emmy could ask any questions.

"What the hell happened out there?" June asked as she dragged Emmy down to the field where Scott, Kira, and Liam were talking, all of them seemed on edge. A student from the Devenford team had just been carried off the field because of an injury.

"Garrett missed," Scott said. "He went for Liam but he's okay."

"But what are you going to do?" Kira asked, looking at Scott.

"I don't know," he said. "Something's not right, we're missing something."

"Aren't we always?" June asked, sarcasm evident in her voice. She rolled her eyes so far back, Emmy wondered if she was in pain.

"Guys!" Stiles yelled, and came up to them from behind. He explained that Lydia had broken another third of the list, and had assured Liam that he wasn't on it but Emmy could tell that there was a silent yet at the end of that sentence.

"Scott, wait!" Stiles yelled before his best friend disappeared entirely as he ran off to save Brett Talbot. "Brett wasn't the only name on the list that stood out." Emmy could practically feel the anxiety seeping out of him.

"Who else?" Scott's tone was urgent and impatient – Emmy could only imagine how hard it was to stay behind when every instinct in the alphas body told him to save as many lives as possible, and all this conversation did, was slow him down. Stiles' eyes lingered on June for a moment before he looked back at Scott, his phone being fidgeted with to keep his hands busy.

"June Delaney." Emmy felt June's body going stiff beside her. "And she's worth three million."

"We'll talk about it later," Scott yelled before he ran off to help Brett, and Emmy desperately hoped that he was still alive. June came alive again, and raced forward only to grab the phone out of Stiles' hand to look at the picture of the list Lydia had sent him.

"I'm human," she mumbled. "Why the fuck am I on this list when I'm human?"

* * *

 **A/N: Not my favorite chapter but alas, we can't always love what we write, right? Either way, I hope you enjoy it! Please feel free to leave reviews so I know what you think of it. Do you have any theories as to why June is on the list? And do you think Emmy is a banshee or something else? Let me know! Remember you can find me on tumblr ( stydiaokaybye) where I post about my OCs and their stories (including sneak peeks).**


	5. The Legend

June watched Derek and Stiles as they tried to keep Brett Talbot's convulsing body still so the doctor could make the incision that would save his life. If he didn't make it or do it properly, Brett would most likely die and either way, it would be painful.

Emmy stood behind June's left shoulder, too terrified to take her eyes off the situation unfolding before them – she clutched her phone in her hand, and June could hear her uneven breathing. All things considered, June thought Emmy was taking it in a stride, but she jumped a little when Brett managed to get out of the young men's grip. He shoved them back, and Stiles bumped his head on the cabinet above him. June would have laughed if Brett hadn't then turned to her and Emmy with the sole intention of hurting them, so June did was she did best, and that was land the hardest punch she could to the aggressive boy's jaw. He went to floor, knocked out cold, and not breathing which Stiles was quick to point out despite his small bump and slight disorientation.

Deaton took the opportunity to do the incision while Brett was out of it, and as soon the doctor made the cut, the werewolf gasped for air and started mumbling something that June couldn't make out. Deaton leaned his head in to listen, and his eyebrows furrowed as he figured out the words.

"Three things can not long be hidden," he said after a short while, grim expression on his face.

"The sun, the moon, and the truth." All eyes turned to Emmy whom everyone, besides June, seemed to have forgotten was there. "My mum focused on Buddhism for a few years, and that mantra came up more than once. My dad was interested in it because he came across it while doing research on a specific werewolf pack. They're history professors," she added when she noticed Deaton's somewhat confused expression.

"With some weird-ass specialties," Stiles added, rubbing the top of his head where a bump was undoubtedly swelling up. Emmy shrugged her shoulders. Deaton cleaned up Brett but didn't dress the cut on his chest knowing that it would heal fast, however he did wrap his leg where he had been cut with the poison blade.

"Satomi," Derek mumbled, he shook is head as if recalling something from memory. "Satomi used Buddhism to gain control of the shift. Chances are this kid one of Satomi's. I'll see if I can track her down." Without waiting for a response, Derek left the animal clinic leaving June alone with Deaton, Emmy, Stiles, and Brett's unconscious body on the slab. No ordinary animal clinic was how Lydia had described it to her when the pack first took her there, and the good supernatural doctor had proven that statement right ever since.

Deaton ordered Stiles to sit so he could have a look at his head, just to check that he didn't have a concussion.

"Why are you on the list?" Stiles asked June, his amber eyes darker in the fluorescent light of the clinic. June looked over her shoulder at Emmy who had gone quiet once again with an expression on her face that she couldn't quite read – she twisted a strand of her bright red hair around her finger.

"I don't know," June mumbled, admitting defeat. "My eyes don't glow, I don't scream when people die, I don't eat people, I don't have blackouts. Nothing. I just know how to throw a punch." She looked down at the bruised knuckles of her right hand, and realized they were bleeding from the hard blow to Brett's jaw – she wasn't all that surprised with bone structure like his.

"Just a bump," Deaton determined, and let his hands fall at his side. Stiles got out of the chair, and made June sit down so Deaton could take a look at her hand – he moved her fingers and wrist to check for breaks and sprains but found nothing except the blood, and bruising already forming at her knuckles. He cleaned the wounds slowly but surely as he listened to the conversation.

"But you're on the list," Stiles continued.

"Your guess is as good as mine." June shrugged, and quickly apologized to Deaton for moving her arm, and landing a slight shove in his chest.

"There's a legend about a guardian," Emmy said quietly.

June jumped a little at the sound of her voice – Emmy sought to be as small and invisible as possible, and June struggled with holding her tongue wanting her to know that with hair like hers, it was nearly impossible. She had certainly made an impression on Liam, who had kept stealing glances at her at the lacrosse field.

"What?" Stiles asked somewhat dumbfounded. Emmy wrung her hands but stepped closer to the chair where June sat, her hair almost blinding in the light.

"A long time ago, Beacon Hills was known for its prominent supernatural population - creatures lived harmoniously with the humans but there was still a person who helped maintain that peace, who made sure that any disagreements were handled properly. A diplomat, if you will."

"June?" Stiles snorted at the suggestion. "She's more likely to start a fight than end one." June opened her mouth to protest but closed it again when she realized that Stiles was right, and if not with her fists then with her sharp tongue.

"Ignore him," June grumbled, and sent Stiles a pointed stare.

"The details are few and vague," Emmy admitted. "But apparently something happened that could not be fixed with words alone, so the diplomat used their battle training to defeat the enemy that had come to tear the small peaceful community apart. After it was all over, the guardian and the supernaturals decided to destroy the source that drew creatures to Beacon Hills…"

"The Nemeton," Stiles said, shuddering. Before June came to Beacon Hills, Stiles, Scott, and Allison had all sacrificed themselves to save their parents, and thereby bringing power back to the Nemeton – Stiles had not been fond of the stump since then, not that June could blame him.

Bringing power back to the Nemeton also released the Nogitsune from its hiding place, and nothing good had come of that.

"Right," Emmy said, nodding. "They cut down the Nemeton, and burned everything but the stump. An emissary made some sort of potion to make the humans forget that the supernatural existed, and from then on the guardian's main job was to keep the secret, and if necessary use their skills to defend the village."

June's mind was spinning a hundred miles an hour – she'd never considered herself a guardian or even a defender for that matter but Emmy could be wrong. It was just a story after all; no cause for concern whatsoever but this being Beacon Hills, June should have known better.

"It's plausible," Deaton said as he wrapped June's hand.

"Plausible?" Stiles grunted, clearly not convinced. "More like insane." Emmy shrugged.

"It's just a story," she agreed. "But it might explain why June is on the list." Stiles mumbled some unintelligible profanities while Deaton let go of June's now wrapped hand. She tried to flex her fingers but soon found that the good doctor had bandaged her hand somewhat tight, more or less cutting off blood flow to her fingers. She'd have to re-wrap her hand once she got home.

Deaton stood, and started tidying up the room, both the supplies he had used on Stiles and June but also the things that had been thrown from shelves when Brett had had his minor freak out. Emmy silently grabbed a broom, and started sweeping the floor where are jar filled with mountain ash had broken.

"Have you ever heard of the Great Fire of Beacon Hills?" Deaton asked after a few minutes.

"No," June said just as Emmy said yes. Stiles nodded.

"It happened in the mid-forties, just after the war," he began. "It started as a forest fire but spread so rapidly that the fire department could not contain it, and as a result most of the town's buildings burned down. That's why no building in Beacon Hills is from before the 50's – that was also the time the Hale Vault was installed under the high school."

"That's all very fascinating, Doctor," June growled. "Is there a point in there somewhere? And I swear to whatever higher power you believe in, if you say anything along the lines of 'have patience, young one' I will end you." Emmy, who had been mostly quiet apart from her folklore lecture, burst out laughing. Stiles was so surprised, he jumped a little at the sound, Deaton chuckled, and June smiled because she'd been able to make her friend laugh in the middle of a frustrating situation.

"My point is," Deaton said, blatantly ignoring her comment. "If there's any truth to the story Emmy just told, Noshiko Yukimura might know something valuable." The room went silent, and for a moment Brett's steady breathing was the only sound any of them could hear.

June was starting to get seriously pissed at this godforsaken town, and if anyone dared cross her right this second, they would lose a hand at the very least.

"What? That's not possible." Stiles started ranting at Deaton but June tuned him out.

Her thoughts were incoherent, nothing seemed to make sense anymore and she had a hard time telling if it was some sort of delusion or sleep deprivation that was toying with her mind. If Kira's mom had been alive during the war, and June highly doubted that, then she would be pushing eighty so it had to be Kira's grandmother Deaton was referring to. A grandmother who Noshiko had obviously been named after.

"You should go home," said Deaton, and judging by Stiles' expression, he had lost whatever argument they'd had. "Get some sleep." June nodded, suddenly realizing just how exhausted she was which seemed to be a common thing for these days.

Stiles and Emmy didn't look much better themselves so after Deaton had assured them that he would make sure Brett was okay and taken care of, the three teenagers headed for their cars. June was sure any of them should be driving but they didn't have much of a chance so June took Emmy home, and collapsed in her own bed, and slept through the night, dreamless.

The next morning, June woke up to a text from Lydia saying that she had met up with Stiles at the Sheriff's station so she didn't need a ride. Somewhat relieved, June contemplated closing her eyes for another five minutes but knowing herself, she decided to get up instead.

The bags under her eyes were as big as ever but she felt refreshed, and when she looked at herself in the mirror, she noticed that her eyes were distinctly clearer and more alert than they had been over the past couple of days.

"Morning," she greeted Marco once she came downstairs to get breakfast.

"You got in late last night," he said, sounding disappointed.

"How'd it go at tryouts?" She asked, ignoring his comment. "You make the team?"

"Yeah." She smiled.

"Good, let's go."

The ride to school was quiet. Marco knew that June was keeping secrets, especially about what she was doing and where she was going at all hours, but he'd more or less given up trying to get his sister to tell him. June's lips were as sealed as ever. Since his lecturing hadn't worked, he'd decided to use the same disapproving look that she got from their father when she told him that her former martial arts coach had agreed to teach her to fight with weapons. But even that look didn't seem to face her, so Marco had finally shrugged it off and decided that his sister could do whatever she wanted – there was no stopping her anyway.

"See you after school," June called as they separated at the school entrance.

June spotted Emmy down the hall. The redhead stood with her head leaned against the open locker door, and when she moved closer, she saw that Emmy's eyes were closed and in that moment, she looked more peaceful than June had ever seen her.

"Rise and shine," she said, chuckling. Emmy stirred awake, opening her greenish hazel eyes. They seemed unfocused, far away, and if June hadn't known any better, she would have thought Emmy was sleeping with her eyes wide open, that's how distant she seemed. June meant to ask if she had gotten any sleep at all but was interrupted by an agitated looking Scott, who held his phone a little too tightly in his hand – it had dents from the werewolf's strong grip.

"He took him."

"Who took who? Let's not be cryptic, none of us have slept an awful lot." Emmy pointed a finger at June, agreeing with her.

"Garrett," Scott said. "Garrett took Liam."

Beside June, Emmy's entire body froze.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment to let me know what you think! Next chapter is going to be really interesting, and we're finally going to see more of Lydia, Malia and Kira which I am so excited for. Stay tuned!**


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